


Different from the Others

by purglepurglepurgle



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Gen, Nibelheim, Shinra, Weird, mention of: Cloud Aeris Zack Ifalna Gast Jenova, most of whom aren't named
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purglepurglepurgle/pseuds/purglepurglepurgle
Summary: Sephiroth always knew he was different from the others.
Relationships: Aeris & Sephiroth, Hojo & Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Ifalna & Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Jenova & Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Sephiroth & the Shinra company
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26





	Different from the Others

He had a mother. Her name was Jenova, Jen, for short, and she was an astronomer. She had long, white hair, like his, and the same sense of humour. She liked books, too. They'd spend afternoons reading together, in companionable silence. She had funny nicknames for all the Shinra staff.

His father was an explorer. He'd disappeared on an expedition, shortly before Sephiroth was born. One day, Sephiroth would find him.

"You look just like him," Jenova would say, and Sephiroth would reply that he found that unlikely, because he was 6. Jenova would ruffle his hair and call him a cheeky monkey--

(he'd heard the cetra woman, ifalna, say that to her baby girl, once, 'you cheeky monkey!', and sephiroth had thought the baby would get a slap, but the mother had been laughing)

and then they'd sit outside. Not Midgar-outside, book-outside, with grass and trees that you could _touch_. No plastic panes. The air would smell green, the way he needed it, cold and full of mist. They'd talk about the plants together, and Jenova would only hit him when he meant to be bad. Her hair was wavy like the Cetra woman's because they were actually sisters. She threaded flowers through it. She had the same dress and pointy shoes, but in blue instead of red, and she sang the same songs. It was a family tradition. The Cetra woman didn't yet know Sephiroth was her nephew because... because... because it was a secret. Jenova hadn't told him why, yet, but one day she would. Then they'd all live together. He would look after the baby, and they'd praise him for taking such good care of it. It would never cry.

"Be patient, darling," Jenova would say, and from her tone he knew he could trust her.

But sometimes, she'd have to leave him for a little while. She was always sorry. She would leave him in the Shinra Building, because she thought it was the safest place for him, so Sephiroth went along. He knew she was wrong, but he didn't want to make her upset. She had the same Moods as him, the same blinding anger. Sometimes they fought, but he tended not to like thinking in those directions, so afterwards he'd go back and scrub it out and start over.

"No, we didn't fight. She said 'shinra is the safest place for you' and I said 'come back soon' and she did. Then we moved across the ocean together, and..."

When Sephiroth wasn't living across the ocean with his kind, funny mother who understood him, he lived in the Shinra Building, on the Science floor, in a bay next to the ones used for prisoners. He would hear Ifalna's baby crying from the cell opposite. His heart would hammer, every time. Professor Hojo didn't like the crying.

Along with a pillow that was too thin to block out any sound, Sephiroth had a mattress against the wall, and 3 times a day, someone would knock on his door and take him out into the corridors, for exercise. This could be annoying when he was in the middle of a book or a daydream, but it got him away from the shouting, and depending on who was with him, he might be able to take the stairs. Often, though, the staff preferred the glass elevators. Sephiroth didn't like those; they reminded him of Professor Hojo's lab. Sephiroth's favourite floor was the one with the model of Midgar; he liked to play with it, carefully taking it apart and putting it back together, while the adults talked over coffee. He also liked the floor with the trees. And the Shinra Library.

The books could be confusing. They featured children the same age as him, but they lived in houses. Sephiroth didn't think he'd ever been in a house; he didn't know what they meant by chimneys, or floorboards, and apparently houses contained a whole room full of food. Sephiroth thought he'd've remembered something like that. At Shinra, they normally gave him protein bars, except for on holidays, when the staff charged with his care would disappear for a while. Then he'd get bits and pieces left over from Professor Hojo's lunch. He always looked forward to it. Sometimes there was _toast_. Though he missed Professor Gast, who had used to sneak him sweets.

"Where's Gast?" Sephiroth had asked, once. Professor Hojo had responded with a backhand, so Sephiroth hadn't asked again. It didn't hurt, exactly. It was more that Sephiroth could tell that Professor Hojo had _meant_ for it to hurt. When Sephiroth hit other people, even adults, they cried, the same way the injections made him cry. He thought people were a bit pathetic for crying. Unlike slaps, mako injections _did_ hurt; like fire, but stronger. Like fire if it was so hot you had to move your hand away from it. Except, he couldn't move away.

"Why do I have to have them?"

"It's good for you. Don't ask questions."

Sephiroth did NOT believe it was good for him. The same people said _cheese_ was good for him. Cheese was disgusting.

Sephiroth wished he were an adult. He could leave, then. He'd be tall; nobody would say 'where are your parents?' or stop him from buying a house far, far away. He knew he already _was_ an adult, on the inside-- but adults were stupid, and couldn't see it.

So he went back to imagining conversations with Jenova. Today, they were sitting in a forest, and they were cataloguing insects.

*

Years later, the jeep rattled toward Nibelheim, and Sephiroth's head hurt. It hurt all the time at the moment. They thought it might be the mako. Sephiroth was furious that they didn't _know_.

Some mornings, his eyes wouldn't open, for ten, twenty seconds. He would always wonder, with mounting panic, if he'd ever be able to open his eyes again. And his limbs often wouldn't obey him when he first woke up. He was finding it took him longer and longer in the mornings before he could walk. His vision would blur for minutes at a time. His hearing was no longer compatible with music; sounds still reached him, but he'd lost most of his sense of pitch. Somehow this was worse. Sex hurt, too. A stinging, burning sensation, all along his spine, that made it more trouble than it was worth. He'd given up on it.

Other people never mentioned these things.

Toward the end of the drive, the dragon appeared-- the monster that Sephiroth was there for, just like all the other things that Shinra put in his path: a thing for him to kill. He did enjoy being stronger than the others, and the amazed looks on their faces, even if it was a petty sort of thing to enjoy. Well, he'd take what he could get.

They took their positions. Sephiroth, another SOLDIER (smaller, weaker, didn't read), and a nameless grunt. Sephiroth could've killed the dragon with one blow, but he chose to draw the fight out, so that the grunt could get a better story to tell about his brush with danger. But in moments, the dragon had knocked the grunt unconscious. Sephiroth sighed. Now the grunt would remember nothing. Sephiroth dispatched the dragon and used a phoenix down, feeling that same yawning chasm between himself and other people. He was always aware that he wasn't like the others, but sometimes he forgot the extent...

In due course, the grunt blinked and sat up. They headed on to Nibelheim. Sephiroth gazed around as they climbed out of the jeep. The town looked oddly familiar, though he didn't think he'd ever visited before. He must've seen a documentary, or read a book. Even the calls of the birds... Sephiroth started to imagine, imagine that this was his hometown, he was returning home; how would it feel? He'd see old, familiar faces, of course, and-- and he remembered that the grunt had mentioned _he_ was, in fact, returning home. Before he could stop himself, Sephiroth had asked how it felt, hungry for something he could absorb, could feel for himself later in the dark of his room; he could relive it, imagine the reunion, switch himself between bodies-- now the grunt; now the mother, pleased to see him home; now a childhood rival, a mixture of envious and impressed and unsure how to handle the passage of years-- act like nothing happened? acknowledge the changes? -- and now the old, stray dog, who missed the scraps the grunt would toss from his window...

But the grunt said something useless, turning the conversation back to Sephiroth's parents. Sephiroth felt a flash of rage. He wished he'd left the grunt unconscious, let him get eaten by the dragon, since apparently that was all he was good for.

Instead, Sephiroth answered the grunt's stupid question. He was able to acknowledge his own mother was dead, these days-- but it drained anything resembling enjoyment from the conversation. He cut it off. They walked to the inn.

Everything stank of mako.

They had a tour guide, with a father. Sephiroth hated the way the girl hugged the man, hated the affection in their eyes. What did they have to smile about? He imagined stabbing his sword through them both, just to stop them smiling. Skewer them like a kebab... He suppressed a laugh at the image. They'd look so shocked when they realised they'd been stabbed-- when they each realised the _other_ had been stabbed!

He couldn't suppress that laugh.

He busied himself on the walk toward the mountain imagining their emotions, imagining the pain they'd feel, the moment of realisation, the horror, the bargaining, that sick feeling, throats closed-- no, this was _final_ , dead and there was nothing you could do about it... All the things left unsaid... That permanent question, 'did she _know_ I loved her'? Too late, too late, too late...

After a while, he started to feel a little bad for the pair. He had to remind himself it wasn't real.

Mako stench, again. His head pounded.

They climbed toward the reactor. Pine trees. Sky. Sephiroth's mood darkened with the clouds overhead. He glared at the soldiers, trudging happily along in their Shinra-issue black boots, whistling marching tunes. To live in a town like this, and leave it for the Shinra building... His head hurt so much. Grass underfoot, air that smelled like rain. Those idiots, those stupid, stupid--! He clenched a fist, and walked faster, so they couldn't see he was a breath away from crying. He felt a sick sense of pleasure when a grunt fell off the mountain path-- to his death, presumably. _Let that be a lesson_. The tour guide and her father were one thing, but all these people, choosing to sign up for Shinra's army; they could go anywhere, be anything... Well, not anything. They were too weak-minded for that. But...

Sephiroth pictured the grunt's body, broken at the bottom of the ravine, and he felt guilty for a moment. Then he saw a ladybird climbing over a leaf. Close enough to touch. No. He hoped the grunt had died feeling terror and regret. He deserved it.

They reached the reactor. "Jenova" -- a memorial to his mother? Sephiroth felt himself smile, the first real smile since they'd arrived. It had been years since he'd imagined her, but she would always hold a nostalgic place in his heart. They'd got through quite a lot together, him and Jenova (Jen for short).

Then came the monsters.

"Are you a monster?" said the idiot. And it was like a bomb went off.

*

Sephiroth's blood pounded in his ears. He read. The project, the experiments, the child...

He looked out at the town, at the stupid little people walking to and fro. They'd _known_. They'd let Shinra set up the reactor, they'd let Shinra cart up the bodies... It said here that he had been born in this mansion. _Someone_ must have seen a child. _Someone_ must have realised that all was not well.

And they'd done nothing.

There they were, chatting by the water tower. In the houses with the wooden floors and the chimneys letting out steam. All those little people who'd smiled merrily as Shinra had injected him with fire-- and how many others? What about all the other experiments, listed only as numbers?! These people, these _things_ , they didn't deserve to live, how _could_ they--

Sephiroth's eyes blurred. He saw the word 'Cetra'. Maybe that explained it. They didn't care because they _couldn't_ care; they didn't have the capacity for empathy; they were stupid, inferior humans-- and he'd always known his feelings were different, stronger, and it was because he _was_ different, he _was_ stronger; they were basically automatons and he should do the world a favour and scrub them off the face of the planet--

He paused. Could he do it? The people here were stupid... they weren't much good with magic... and all those wooden floors would be flammable. Who could even stop him, if he chose to burn it all down?

He started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was so... simple. Almost too easy. They were sitting there, sitting prone, and if he was honest he'd always wanted to do something like this, but he'd never had a good enough reason (in Wutai, he'd shown mercy because Shinra had ordered him to be merciless), and now...

He saw the name 'Jenova' again. He remembered sitting with her on a forest floor, hiding from Hojo's temper.

He snapped his book shut.

"Out of my way," he told the grunt, eyes bright. "I'm going to see my mother."

**Author's Note:**

> idk if this works or not. I'm curious what people think! it's an experiment that ended up longer than expected. wondering if it's overwrought and seems like Sephiroth's gonna start singing 'there is a castle on a cloooooud' or if I got away with it.
> 
> either way, hoping the first couple of sentences made someone somewhere cry 'NO!' before reading on.


End file.
